The Littlest Mountie    The Littlest Mountie by Mary

 Author's notes: For further adventures of Ben and Julie, read "Tears of
Unknown Origin," "A Goldmine, A Boomerang, A Tank of Gasoline...And You,"
and (coming soon) "Two Blushing Pilgrims."

  

 NOTES: Just as Ben's father is one of my favorite characters on dueSouth,
he is one of my favorite characters to explore in fan fiction. He strikes
me as such a likable guy, yet he has this one glaring shortcoming: he
didn't give Ben the attention he needed as a child. And the adult
relationship between father and son is strained because of Ben's
resentment and Bob's apparent feelings of regret and guilt about his
failure to be a better father. However, it also appears to me that,
despite their difficult relationship, the two of them love each other
deeply. Bob is certainly a complex character, with good aspects as well as
failings. He is truly human, with scars and inner conflicts with which he
is faced on a daily basis. Ben must have experienced enough of the good in
his father while he was growing up so that he could have feelings of love
for him as well as wishing to be with him. 

 While doing research on Inuit culture and family life for other stories,
I read a little about their philosophy regarding the discipline of
children. The children are very important to them, and they feel it would
be wrong to yell at them in anger, as that is liable to break their
spirits. They will discipline them, however, even with a spank if
necessary, as that is merely a hurt to the skin, not to the spirit.
Knowing some facts about Ben's childhood and about the people who raised
him, as well as the kind of man Ben Fraser became, I think it is logical
to imagine that his parents/grandparents tried to employ a similar
philosophy in raising him. 

 DISCLAIMER: These aren't my toys. I'm just playing with them because
Alliance hasn't told me to put them away. 

 Comedy/Drama; PG-13 

 THE LITTLEST MOUNTIE 

 By Mary 

 "Benton!" I heard my name being bellowed by Grandma from the outer room.
Something about the tone of her voice gave me pause, so I decided against
running out there to answer her in the flesh. 

 "What?" I called back to Grandma from the relative safety of my room,
where I had just changed into my pajamas and was about to get into bed. 

 "Come here, please. I need to speak to you." 

 *Oh dear!* I panicked. If it were simply a matter of needing to speak to
me, surely she would have come to my room instead of beckoning me to her
with such urgency. "I'm in bed, Grandma," I lied, hoping against hope that
it would get me off the hook. Whatever hook it was that I was on. 

 "Get out here and answer your grandmother immediately!" a stern,
irritated male voice ordered me in no uncertain terms. It was my father's
voice. A voice I hadn't heard since the day he had left me in the care of
my grandparents following the death of my mother. That had been months
ago, and in my seven-year-old wisdom and need, I had all but convinced
myself that Grandma and Grandpa were my parents now and Dad had died with
Mum. That thought was a lot easier to deal with than the thought that Dad
simply had no need for me in his life. In my excitement at hearing his
voice again, I ignored the obvious harshness of it and hurried out to find
him and Grandma standing by the opened gun cabinet. 

 "Dad! You're home!" I exclaimed as I ran to him and wrapped my arms
around his legs in greeting. 

 "Yes, hello, Son," he answered as he briefly tousled my hair.
"Grandmother has something to ask you." He gently loosened my arms from
around him and turned me to face Grandma. 

 "What, Grandma?" I asked, finally noticing the gun cabinet and fearing I
was in big trouble. 

 "What were you doing in the gun case, Ben?" she asked, not even bothering
to first ask if I'd been into the gun case. 

 "I wasn't," I whispered to the floor. I was telling an outright lie and
found it impossible to do so with full, unrestrained voice. 

 "What were you doing in the gun case, Benton Fraser?" she repeated
insistently. 

 "I wasn't!" I forced myself to answer once again, with slightly more
volume. I could feel my face reddening with shame and had to hold myself
back from touching my nose as I crossed my eyes in an attempt to see if it
was growing like Pinocchio's. 

 "You're lying to me, Ben." There wasn't a hint of inquiry in this
statement. She was certain. 

 "No, Grandma," I contradicted her with yet another lie. 

 Grandma sighed impatiently and glared at me. "Honey, I'm warning you, if
you tell me one more lie, you are going to get a spanking. Do you
understand me?" 

 I nodded, even though I knew that if she asked me again about the guns,
I'd tell her another lie. 

 "Your father's rifle has been loaded and left in the cabinet." She looked
at me as if she wanted me to respond to her statement. 

 "It has?" I must have looked guilty as sin as I stood there, shuffling my
feet nervously, unable to look my grandmother in the eyes. 

 "Yes, it has. How do you suppose that happened?" 

 "I dunno. Dad musta loaded it, I guess." 

 "No, Son. The guns are always put away unarmed. You know that." Even
without looking back at him, I could feel Dad's disappointed glare focused
on me. 

 "Maybe Grandpa--" 

 "That's enough, Ben!" Grandma snapped. "I will not listen to any more
lies. Now, I thought I made it perfectly clear that these guns are kept
unloaded and secured for a reason, and you will not be allowed to play
with them as if they were toys." 

 "I know they're not toys. I wasn't playing with 'em." I spoke these words
with the conviction of a clear conscience, as I didn't consider my use of
the gun to have been play. 

 Dad reached out and tugged firmly on my ear and I winced and wriggled in
pain. "Out with it, Son. The truth. Is this loaded rifle your doing?" 

 "Ow, um, yes, Sir," I confessed. "I'm sorry, Dad. But I wasn't playing. I
was pracstissin." 

 "Practicing?" he asked as he let go of my ear. 

 "Yeah. For when I'm big 'nuff to go huntin'. I wanted to s'prise you by
knowing how to use a gun." 

 "Yes, well, you won't be hunting for a while yet. And if you don't know
better than to leave a loaded gun hanging around, then you're obviously
not ready to be handling one." 

 "I do know better, Sir, but..." 

 "But what?" 

 "But Grandma was comin' and I didn't have time to take the bullet out." I
knew this admission wasn't going to win me a lot of points, but I didn't
dare tell any more lies. 

 "Ah, well, I see. That's all right, then. I mean it doesn't matter if
someone might get hurt because you left the gun loaded, as long as you
didn't get caught with it. Is that your logic?" 

 "No, Sir," I whispered. I didn't like contradicting him, but I felt I had
to set him straight. "I put the safety on so nobody would get hurt. Didn't
I do it right, Dad?" 

 My father seemed a little annoyed with me for bringing up this point when
he was trying to reprimand me for carelessness, but he did admit, "Yes,
Ben, you did it perfectly." However, no sooner did he get those words out
than he took a firm grasp of the back of my neck and scolded me harshly.
"But, it distresses me greatly to find that you have been ignoring the
rules around here! The law is the law, Son, whether you like it or not.
And if I ever get wind of you breaking this law, or any other law, again,
I will arrest you and put you in prison, just like I do with every other
law-breaker! Understood?" 

 I swallowed hard and nodded my head. I wasn't sure whether to believe the
part about putting me in prison, but it didn't matter. "I'm sorry, Dad. I
promise I won't do it again." I was devastated to have angered him, so I
didn't even notice that his grip on my neck was becoming tighter. Grandma
came over to loosen Dad's hold on me and he dropped his arm and laid it
across my chest, pulling me back against his body. It was almost worth
getting yelled at to feel Dad holding me so close. 

 "Where'd you learn how to load a rifle?" Grandma asked me. 

 I gripped a fistful of Dad's pant legs in each of my hands as if he were
a security blanket. "Um, from Dad. He showed me once when we were--" 

 Dad quickly cupped his hand over my mouth, but it was too late. I'd
already ratted him out. "Okay, Son. I think you've said enough, thank
you." He took his hand away from my mouth and I looked up to see him put
his finger to his lips to warn me to keep silent. 

 "Bob, are you unhinged?" 

 "Now, Mother--" 

 "Teaching a little child how to use a gun! I can't believe you did such a
thing!" 

 "I didn't set out to teach him how to use a gun. I was loading my rifle.
He was there with me, watching. I reckoned it couldn't hurt to give him a
quick lesson in safe gun handling. How was I to know he'd take that as
carte blanche to help himself to the gun cabinet?" Dad's stern face
suddenly softened when he saw me look up at him, and his hand began to
gently move back and forth across my chest. "Besides, Mother, you must
admit, that rifle hasn't looked so good in years. The boy did a fine job
cleaning it, and he did engage the safety." I was amazed. Dad actually
sounded proud of me. 

 "If he touches it again, you'll catch as much trouble from me as he will,
Robert! In fact, probably more!" 

 Dad frowned and looked at me anxiously. "Well, Ben, I'll be counting on
you to keep us both out of the dog house," he said in a half-joking
manner. I nodded and we stared at each other for several seconds as I
pleaded silently for forgiveness. Finally, Dad gave me a quick wink, and I
breathed a sigh of relief. "Dismissed, Son," Dad said as he nodded his
head in the direction of my bedroom and patted me on the back. 

 I sensed that he was attempting to help me get away without further
admonishment from Grandma, so I started to make a quick run for it. But
Grandma just as quickly snatched me by the collar and hauled me before
her. 

 "Uh, no, not so fast, Mister. The fat lady hasn't sung yet." 

 "Huh?" 

 "I'm not finished with you yet." 

 "Oh." I knew I was in for the wooden spoon, but, like any normal kid, I
had to try to stall that eventuality, at the very least. I figured if I
was lucky I might even manage to charm Grandma out of going through with
it. After all, that had worked on Mum once or twice. "You're not fat,
Grandma." 

 I heard Dad chuckle behind me and saw Grandma glare at him. "Sorry," he
said and moved away from us and sat down. 

 "It's an expression, Ben. 'It's not over until the fat lady sings.'" 

 I started to nod my understanding, but Dad interrupted. "Actually isn't
it 'It ain't over till the fat lady sings'?" 

 "Not in this house," she answered him impatiently. 

 I could tell that Dad was trying to lighten the situation, but I was
afraid he was just angering my grandmother even more, and I didn't want
all that extra anger taken out on me. "I promise I won't ever touch the
guns again, Ma'am," I said with as much repentance as I could muster. 

 "I'm sure you won't. However, I'm not so sure about the lying. We've
talked about this before, haven't we?" 

 "Uh huh. I guess." 

 "And what would you guess I've told you about it?" 

 "That it's a bad thing." 

 "And what did I say -- not two minutes ago -- would happen if you kept
lying about the gun?" She said this with the graveness of an adult who is
telling a child there is no such thing as Santa Claus. 

 "You'd, um, spank me." My words were barely audible. A kid doesn't like
to admit that he misbehaved with full knowledge of the consequences. It
leaves him defenseless. 

 "And I meant that, Ben." 

 "I know, Grandma." 

 "Then why did you continue to lie?" 

 I shrugged and looked at the floor until I heard Dad clear his throat,
and then I turned to face him. 

 "You must have some idea," he prodded me. "A man doesn't lie for no
reason." 

 "I didn't wanna lie." 

 "You must've wanted to if you were willing to get spanked for doing it." 

 "I didn't want you to know that I broke the rule about the guns, Dad.
'Specially when you just got home." 

 "I see. Afraid of what I might do?" 

 I shook my head. This was not going well. The last thing I wanted was for
my dad to think I was afraid of him. But obviously he did, and I didn't
know how to convince him otherwise. I looked at my grandmother hoping that
she understood. She knew how important my father's love was to me and how
I worried that his absence was a sign of his disregard for me. She was
always helping me find things I could do for Dad to remind him that I was
here and loved him. Things like sending him homemade gifts or pictures I'd
drawn. 

 "No, Bob, I don't think that's what he meant. Was it, Ben?" 

 "No, Ma'am." 

 "What did you mean, Son?" 

 I didn't know how to answer him, so I again looked to Grandma for help. 

 "Just what he said, Bob. He didn't want you to know he'd misbehaved. You
haven't been around to see it, but this son of yours is determined to make
you proud of him. If he thought you would be disappointed in something he
did, I imagine he'd go to great lengths to keep you from finding out about
it. Even if that meant telling a lie." I was grateful for the look of
comprehension Grandma gave me as she said that last sentence. 

 "Oh, I see. So it's my fault he lied, then? Listen, Ben," he scolded,
leaning forward in his chair, "I'll forgive a misdeed a lot quicker than
I'll forgive you trying to cover it up." 

 "Yes, Sir," I whispered as I hung my head. Tears were beginning to well
in my eyes. Not for fear of punishment, but because of the tone of Dad's
voice. It sounded like he had completely despaired of me. 

 Grandma crouched in front of me, took my hands in hers, and lifted my
chin so I'd look at her. "Your father's right. A lie cannot be justified
as a means of avoiding owning up to breaking a rule. Do you understand
that, honey?" 

 "Uh huh." 

 "Good." Grandma looked at my dad as she continued to hold my hands.
"Would you prefer to handle his discipline, Bob, or shall I?" 

 "Oh, um, go ahead, Mother. You're in charge. I'd better let you see to
it." I watched as Dad nervously got up and moved away from us to resecure
the gun cabinet. As he separated himself from us at that moment, he seemed
more like a stranger than my father, and I found myself wishing he would
administer my punishment just so he would seem real. When push came to
shove, Dad would take me over his knee, but his anger on those occasions
always hurt me more than did his belt. 

 "I won't lie any more, Grandma. Even if you don't spank me," I made a
vain plea for mercy. 

 "I hope that's true, Ben." 

 "It is. I promise. So, can't you give me a second chance?" 

 "I gave you a second chance, honey. I warned you to stop lying, but you
ignored my warning." 

 So much for charming Grandma! "But I 'splained why I lied," I whined. 

 "Yes, and I do understand, but that doesn't mean I excuse it. You knew it
was wrong, yet you did it anyway. If I excused that, you'd grow up
believing you can rationalize your way out of accepting responsibility for
your own behavior." 

 "What's that mean?" 

 "It means you can't go through life making excuses whenever you do
wrong," Dad interrupted in a loud voice. "You have to face up to it and
pay the price, like a man." Dad propped one foot on a stool and leaned
forward, waving his arm to direct me to turn and face him. "Listen, Son.
When I put a criminal under arrest and he swears to me up and down that
he's never gonna repeat the crime, do you think I just let him go?" 

 I hemmed and hawed, then admitted, "Prob'ly not." 

 "No 'probablys' about it, Son. I take him in. And why do I take him in no
matter how many promises he makes to reform?" 

 "'Cause it's your duty?" 

 "Well, yes, it's my duty. But what else?" 

 I shrugged and looked at him intently. 

 "Why do I have to arrest a criminal?" he asked. 

 "'Cause he broke the law?" 

 "Correct! He broke a law that he knew he'd be arrested for if he was
caught." Dad paused and gazed at me sympathetically. "You knowingly broke
the law, Ben. Plain and simple. Now it's our duty to take you in." 

 "Understood, Sir." I could tell what Dad expected of me from the way he
looked at me. If I wanted to make him proud, I would have to pay for my
crime. So I said no more as Grandma stood up and led me by the hand into
the study and closed the door behind us. 

 

 When Grandma and I emerged from the study a few minutes later, I saw Dad
standing at the hearth, holding a photograph. I squinted and recognized it
as a photograph of him and Mum on their wedding day. 

 "Go to bed, dear. It's past your bedtime," Grandma ordered me softly. 

 "Yes, Ma'am." 

 Dad put down the photograph when he heard us, and as I walked across the
room, gingerly massaging my behind, he grabbed onto my pajama top and
detained me. I lost all awareness of my smarting backside as I stood
before him, hoping for nothing more than to be sent to bed with a fatherly
"good night." 

 "A man always feels better when he's paid for his crime," he said very
uneasily. 

 "Yes, Sir," I replied through stiff lips. 

 "I'll bet it won't be hurting for long," he leaned in to encourage me. 

 "Okay." If only he had taken me to him in a reassuring embrace, I
wouldn't have cared how much the spanking hurt. 

 "You didn't cry, did you?" he asked, cocking his head almost as if he was
afraid to hear the answer. 

 "Uh-uh," I shook my head in response. 

 "Leave him alone, Bob. He cries less than you did at his age." 

 "Mother, please..." 

 "He's a child. It's only natural he'll cry once in a while." 

 "Is that true, Son? Are you a child?" 

 I was a little angry at my dad for putting me in the position of having
to answer that question. If I answered 'no,' I'd be contradicting my
grandmother, which was often a punishable offense. If I answered 'yes,' my
dad would want nothing to do with me. But I really had no choice. I stood
as straight as I could before my dad and replied "I'm a man, Sir." 

 Dad beamed proudly and slapped me on the back as he said, "My son is a
man, and it's not natural for a man to cry. Right, Son?" 

 "Right, Sir." 

 "This man needs to go to sleep now, Bob," Grandma broke in as she put her
hands on my shoulders. "It's late." 

 I glanced at Grandma and then looked back at my dad for permission to go
to bed. 

 "Of course. Run along, Son. I'll see you in the morning before I leave." 

 "You're leaving already?" I said despondently. It was much harder to hold
back my tears now than it had been while Grandma was spanking me. But it
also seemed even more imperative that I not cry at this moment. 

 "Yes, I'm leaving. I have a job to do. Have you forgotten that?" He
appeared very irritated with my question, so I didn't press the matter any
further. 

 "No, Sir. Good night," I said as I held out my hand, hoping he would
reciprocate. He did and we shook hands firmly and then I turned to leave
the room. 

 "I'll come to kiss you good night, honey," I heard Grandma promise as I
reached my bedroom door. 

 

 I hadn't expected Dad to tuck me in, so I was unprepared when I felt his
rough hand wiping the tears from my cheek as I lay on my stomach with my
eyes closed. 

 "Tears, Son?" he asked disapprovingly as he sat on the bed next to me. 

 I had tried not to cry, but once I got into bed, my body began to
convulse and I was overcome by an uncontrollable sob. By the time Dad came
into the room, I was no longer actively weeping, but it was very evident
that I had been. After all that had happened that night, I wasn't up to
facing him with tears on my face, so I pretended to be asleep. 

 I'm not sure if Dad fell for my ruse or if he just decided to let me have
my sanctuary. Without saying another word, he pulled the blankets tightly
around me, quickly caressed the back of my head, then stood up. My eyes
were still closed, but I was aware of him as he stood there for what
seemed like an eternity, watching me sleep. Well, feigning sleep. 

 I wanted to open my eyes to look at him so I could see what kind of
expression was on his face, but by doing so I would have risked receiving
his disapproval. With my eyes closed, I could imagine that he was enjoying
watching me because he'd missed me while out hunting down criminals these
past several months. 

 "Good night, Son," he finally said and walked toward the door. 

 I heard him turn out the light so I opened my eyes slightly and, in the
safety of the darkness, I replied softly, "G'night, Dad." As the light
from outside my room illuminated my face, he caught my eyes on his way out
the door and smiled, and my heart was immeasurably gladdened. 

 

 I wasn't even aware that I'd been asleep yet, when suddenly I was being
nudged awake and I heard my father urging me, "Let's go, Son. The day's
a'wastin'. We got a job to do." I forced my eyes open and saw that it was
still pitch dark. 

 "What's goin' on, Dad?" I yawned as I stretched my body awake. "What time
is it?" 

 "Four-thirty. Up and at 'em, Ben!" Dad switched on the light at my
bedside. "Don't want the sun to beat you outta bed, do you?" 

 I scrambled out of bed and stood in the middle of the floor, at a loss as
to what I was supposed to do next. 

 "Well, don't just stand there, Cadet! Get dressed! Get dressed! Are you
coming on this job with me or not?" 

 "Job? You want me to come on a job with you, Sir?" 

 "I don't want you coming anywhere with me looking like a sleepy little
boy." 

 I ran to my closet and threw on some clothes. As I sat on the bed and put
on my socks and shoes, Dad grabbed my Stetson from the shelf and dropped
it onto my head. 

 "Oh, Dad. I forgot. Grandma wanted me to help Grandpa with the chickens
today." 

 "Don't fret about that, Son. I've already spoken to your grandmother. She
knows you're coming with me." Dad gave me a questioning look and added "If
you want to, that is. I mean, if you'd rather stay home and help Grandpa
with the chickens..." 

 "No, Dad, I wanna come with you!" I assured him. After a short pause, I
asked "Where are we going?" 

 

 Dad and I met Buck Frobisher at an RCMP Patrol Cabin. The night before,
Buck had managed to capture a poacher they'd been after for weeks, so Dad
was meeting up with him so they could bring in the poacher together. 

 "Damn, if that's not the puniest little Mountie I ever did see!" the
prisoner exclaimed sarcastically when he saw me. 

 I was a little apprehensive about being near one of Dad's prisoners after
hearing all his stories about hunting down the world's most dangerous
criminals, so I hid myself behind Dad, grasping onto his trouser-leg for
comfort. 

 "And a yellow one, to boot!" the prisoner added. 

 "Well, now, that just shows how little you know about the Force, Mister,"
Buck spoke up in my defense. I looked at him and he winked, then
continued. "That fine young Cadet over there happens to be our proud
future. And you'd be smart not to antagonize him in these, his formative
years." 

 "Oh, yeah, I'm shaking in my boots! The kid's gonna come after me!" 

 "A Mountie never forgets someone who owes a debt to society - however
insignificant it might seem." Buck motioned me to him with a gesture.
"Come, Cadet Fraser. Take a good look at this deviant." 

 I didn't move, but Dad took hold of me and firmly brought me around in
front of him. "Go on, Son," he said as he gently pushed me toward Buck.
"It's completely safe. The prisoner's tied up." 

 I crept over to Buck, who took me close and placed his arms snugly
against either side of my chest. To be so embraced by this strong man gave
me a great feeling of security. Buck pulled my Stetson back on my head and
said, "All right, Fraser. Look at this criminal. What do you see?" 

 "A man, Sir." 

 "Yes, well, sure, a man. But what's different about this particular man?"


 I squinted and looked hard at the prisoner. "I dunno. He looks just like
a regular man to me, Sir." As I continued to lean forward, studying the
prisoner, he suddenly shouted "boo!" in my face, startling me back into
the protective arms of Buck. 

 "It's okay. He's not gonna hurt you," Buck reassured me while massaging
my neck and shoulders. 

 "Give me something to gag him with," Dad said as he held out a hand to
Buck and gave the prisoner a menacing glare. 

 "Oh, no, no. Can't do that, Bob. The boy's gotta be able to see the
mouth. You know that." 

 "The mouth?" Dad questioned him. 

 "Certainly. The mouth. The surest way to tell a criminal from an honest
man." 

 "It is not," Dad countered. 

 "What're you talking about? Of course it is. Every Mountie knows about
the mouth." 

 "Every Mountie knows about the eyes, you mean," Dad corrected him. 

 "The eyes? Have you lost your bag of marbles? The eyes, indeed!" Buck
laughed. 

 Dad came over and bent down to me while directing my attention to the
prisoner. "The eyes are a dead giveaway, Son. Look at them, and you can
see inside the man's soul. You can tell if he's happy or sad, friend or
foe, honest or dishonest--" 

 "Hogwash!" Buck interrupted. "I suppose next you're gonna claim you can
tell what he's had for breakfast!" 

 "Don't be ridiculous!" Dad answered. "But, you know, Benton, if you look
just right, you can sometimes tell if...if he's gotta..." 

 "If he's gotta...what?" Buck asked. 

 "If he's gotta...you know...relieve himself," Dad whispered loud enough
for everyone to hear. 

 "Wow!" I exclaimed. "Really?" 

 Dad put his hands on his hips and shrugged. "Sometimes...if you look at
them just so." 

 Buck started to expound on the virtues of the mouth in gauging a man's
character, but I didn't really hear what he said. I was too busy staring
at the prisoner's eyes, looking for any of the signs that Dad had said
were there to read. I think the prisoner was probably playing with me, but
suddenly I was reading a message loud and clear. 

 "Dad!" I yelled proudly, tugging at his jacket to grab his attention as
he argued with Buck. 

 "What is it, Son?" 

 "I think he's gotta go!" 

 

 It was a long drive to the RCMP detachment, where Dad and Buck Frobisher
had to take their prisoner. I sat in the front seat of the police truck
between them and was soon caught up in watching Dad's feet as they worked
the myriad of pedals on the floor. The hypnosis was broken when I felt Dad
elbow me. 

 "Hat, Son." 

 "Huh?" 

 "Not in the car." 

 "Oh," I said, and I removed my Stetson and placed it on my lap. Then I
noticed that Buck had put his hat atop the dashboard, so I wriggled to the
edge of the seat and placed my hat carefully next to Buck's. I looked back
to Dad for an assurance and noticed that, although his eyes were
concentrated on the road, they were decidedly smiling. 

 Apparently, Buck hadn't had much sleep the night before, because within
minutes of the start of our drive, he was dead to the world and snoring as
loudly as an angry grizzly. I tried to do the polite thing at first and
pretended I didn't notice the noise he was making, but that kind of
restraint was beyond me. I stared at Dad silently until he favored me with
an intermittent glance while trying to keep an eye on the road. We didn't
say anything, but on one of my dad's glances at me he gave a wink and a
smile, and my face was overtaken by an ear-to-ear grin. 

 "Let this be a lesson to you, Benton. When you're looking for your
partner, the man who's gonna be on the trail with you, day and night, make
sure he doesn't snore! In my naivete, I overlooked that and now look what
I'm stuck with!" 

 "You ain't the only one stuck with it!" the prisoner suddenly commented
from the back seat. 

 I giggled and turned around in the seat, propped on my knees. "Do you
snore, Mister?" I asked the prisoner, just looking for a little
time-passing conversation. 

 "No, I don't snore. I do something much better than that," he teased me. 

 "What?" I asked. 

 "EAT NOSEY PARKER KIDS!" he yelled in my face as he suddenly lurched
forward in his seat as far as the restraints would allow him. 

 I screamed in fright and grabbed onto my dad, causing him to momentarily
lose control of the car. He quickly regained control, brought the truck to
a stop, and then reached over and applied a solid 'settle down' slap to
the seat of my pants. 

 "Ow, Dad!" It didn't really hurt; I just wanted him to think it did. 

 "Sit down on that behind of yours unless you want me to give it a real
smack!" he warned angrily. 

 I immediately obeyed and answered penitently "Sorry, Dad." 

 "You coulda got us all killed with your shenanigans!" 

 "You tell 'im, Dad!" the prisoner yelled from the back seat. "You know, I
could sue you for reckless endangerment." 

 "Shut up!" my father ordered him. He was very upset, and I realized I had
to try to pacify him. 

 "I'm Sorry, Sir. I didn't mean to. It was a accident." 

 Dad sighed deeply, then lectured, without looking at me. "A moving
vehicle is no place for antics like that. This is serious business, Son,"
he explained, obviously trying to be patient with me. "Would you like it
if I jumped on you when you were driving?" 

 I laughed instinctively at the thought of me driving and Dad shot me an
angry glare. 

 "No. I know, Dad. I won't move. I promise." 

 "And no talking to the prisoner. He's just looking to start trouble." 

 "Hey!" the prisoner interjected. "If memory serves, it was your little
Mountie there that started it. I was just minding my own--" 

 "I didn't start it, Dad! He did! He said that-- " 

 Dad put his hand on my head to silence me and gave me a warning glare,
then turned to face the prisoner. "You shut up or I'll gag you!" Dad
bellowed at him, and the prisoner sat back and didn't say another word.
"And, as for you, Benton. Any more horseplay and you'll--" 

 "I'll be good, Dad." 

 Dad squinted at me sternly. "Okay. All right. Then is it safe for me to
start the car and be on our way?" 

 "Yes, Sir." 

 Dad was clearly irritated as he settled back into position and started
the car. As he drove on, I sat there staring at him, trying to ascertain
if I was forgiven. 

 "What's on your mind, Ben?" he asked after noticing my concerned gaze. 

 "Um...I was wonderin'..." I stopped as I was hesitant to ask the
question. 

 "Yes, yes...wondering what? Spit it out, Son." 

 "I, um, don't want you to be mad at me, Sir." 

 "Ah," was all he replied. 

 He didn't seem to be going to say anything else, so I turned my eyes from
him and hung my head in despair. Within seconds, I felt Dad's arm around
my shoulders, coaxing me to lean against him. 

 "Take a nap, Ben. It's gonna be a long ride yet." 

 "I'm not tired, Sir. I can stay awake with you." I was determined to show
him how strong I was. And I also didn't want to forfeit any of my time
with him, even if he was mad at me. 

 "Yes, I'm sure you can. But, you know, when you're on the trail like
this, you have to think ahead. Maybe you're not tired now, but if you
don't rest when you have the chance, you might become tired later on, when
you've got important work to do." 

 "What important work?" 

 "Oh, well, you never can tell. That's the thing about this job. You gotta
be ready to go at a moment's notice." 

 "Oh." Dad loved talking about being a Mountie, and I loved listening to
him. So, I snuggled against his body and grasped his jacket between my
fingers. I remember Dad humming a tune while I watched his feet work the
pedals of the car and gloried in the warmth and the scent of him. I was
going to stay awake and enjoy every last second of this precious time. 

 

 The next thing I knew I was waking up on a strange couch in a strange
room and a strange girl was staring at me with her face so close we were
practically touching. It startled her a little when I suddenly opened my
eyes, and she drew back just a bit. 

 "Hi," she greeted me as if I belonged there. 

 "Hi," I replied without moving. Grandma had taught me that politeness was
always the first order of business when meeting someone new. 

 "You were sleeping." 

 "Uh huh." 

 "My daddy said you had a big day so I shouldn't wake you up." 

 "Oh." The girl appeared to be about my age and she seemed to know who I
was. However, I was certain we'd never met. I would've remembered her. She
was nice, for a girl. Actually, I'd never really known any girls, but I'd
always assumed them to be sort of an alien race. This girl didn't seem
much different than me. As I sat up, I noticed she was wearing a Stetson.
"Is that my hat?" 

 "Uh huh. D'you wannit back?" 

 "I don't care," I said, shrugging. I was trying to appear cool and calm,
even though inside I was near panic wondering where the hell I was and
what had happened to my dad and Buck. *Had the prisoner somehow got free
and done something to them?* "You can wear it if you wanna. I never saw a
girl Mountie before." 

 "Well, I never saw a little Mountie like you before either." 

 "I'm not...a Mountie. I'm a Cadet." 

 "Really?" 

 "Um, well, it's pretend. When I put the hat on, I'm a pretend Cadet.
Someday I'm gonna be a real one, though." 

 "Gosh! I never knew a boy who was gonna be a Mountie before!" 

 "My dad's a Mountie," I stated, trying to impress her even more. 

 "I know, silly. So's mine." 

 "He is?" 

 "Sure! Your dad and my dad are pardners." 

 Well, there was that mystery solved. Sort of. 

 "Buck Frobisher is your dad?" 

 "Uh huh, 'course he is. What'd you think?" 

 The girl started laughing and I blushed. I don't know what she expected
me to think. I'd never met any of Buck's family. 

 "You're funny, Ben," she continued to laugh. 

 "You know my name? How--" 

 "Well, look who finally decided to wake up!" I couldn't have been more
excited and relieved to hear my father's voice. 

 I saw my dad and Buck come into the room and stand behind the girl, so I
jumped off the couch and ran over to Dad and embraced his legs. 

 "Dad! You're here!" 

 "Certainly. Where'd you think I was?" he asked. 

 "Is this the jail?" 

 "The jail? Does this look like a jail to you?" Dad laughed. 

 "The prisoner..." 

 "Oh, we dropped off the prisoner over an hour ago, Benton," Buck
explained. "This is my home. I see you've met my daughter, Julie." 

 "Oh, um, yes, Sir. I guess so." I snuck a shy peek at the pretty mystery
girl who looked so fetching in my hat. 

 "I didn't wake him up, Daddy," Julie said. "I was just watchin' him and
he woke up all by hisself." 

 "Dad, you said I could go inside the jail," I whined when I realized I'd
missed the best part of this adventure. 

 "You were sleeping, Son. I tried to wake you -- Buck and I both tried --
but you wouldn't stir." 

 "Well, I'm stirred now. Let's go back. I wanna see the jail," I pleaded,
trying to pull him to the door. 

 "No, 'fraid we don't have time to go back now. Next time." 

 "No! I don't wanna wait for next time. You always say that, but I never
get to go!" I pouted and stamped my feet in a temper tantrum. "Take me
now! You promised you would! You promised, Dad! It's not fair to break a
promise!" 

 "All right, Ben, that's enough! Any more lip from you and I'll send you
to another room to sit by yourself until you're ready to behave!" 

 I hung my head to hide a blush. I didn't like being yelled at in front of
other people. And especially in front of this pretty girl. 

 "Where'd you get this?" Buck asked Julie as he lifted the hat from her
head and then placed it on mine, burying most of my downcast face. "Isn't
this your Stetson, Cadet?" 

 I nodded, but didn't look up. 

 "He said I could wear it if I wanna," Julie answered. 

 "He did, did he? Well, Cadet Fraser, is that true?" he asked me as he
pushed the hat back on my head and I lifted my face to him. 

 "Uh huh...I mean, yes, Sir. My grandma told me I should always share my
stuff." 

 "Oh, yes, I see. Well, that's quite right, normally, Cadet. But, you see,
the uniform...a Mountie's uniform isn't 'stuff' to be shared with little
girls. It's his responsibility, his pride and joy. So, you just hang onto
the Stetson and keep the sharing to your toys, eh?" 

 "I don't have any toys, Sir," I replied earnestly. 

 "No, I know you don't have any toys with you. I meant when you get back
home." 

 "I don't have any toys at home either, Sir." 

 "What? None?" Buck asked, incredulous. "What's he talking about, Bob?" 

 "Er, um, well....now, Son, don't exaggerate. You certainly have toys.
Your moth...uh, you've been given toys..." 

 "Yeah, I know. But I don't have 'em any more. They were baby toys. I'm
bigger now. I don't need toys. They're, um, friverliss." 

 I noticed that Dad seemed very uneasy. He was pacing behind me, and I
heard him mumble to himself a couple times. 

 "That's a serious-minded kid you got there, Bob," Buck said to my father.


 "You can play with my toys, Ben," Julie said. 

 I was very touched by her sweet offer, but, well, her toys would be girl
toys. So, I didn't respond, as I didn't want to hurt her feelings. 

 "Well, Son," Dad nudged me. "What do you say? Julie's made a very
generous offer, don't you think?" 

 "Uh huh. I guess." 

 "Go on, then. Run along and play with your girlfriend." 

 "Dad!" I exclaimed, blushing in embarrassment. 

 "Her father and I have business to attend to. Off you go, now. Have fun."


 "I got a real cool new doll house for my birthday," Julie told me
excitedly. 

 I looked at my dad in horror. *A doll house?* "But, Dad, can't I stay
with you and do the Mountie bus'ness?" 

 "I'll just be in the other room, Ben. We'll be spending the night here,
so you might as well enjoy yourself. You'll have a much better time
playing with Julie than you will listening to me and Buck talk shop." 

 "No, I won't. I wanna do the Mountie stuff. You said I could. You said
so, Dad!" 

 Dad grabbed my arm and took me off to one side and gave me a private
talking-to. "I'm losing my patience with you, Son. I want you to stop this
whining right now, d'you hear me? What would your grandmother say? Would
she put up with this nonsense, eh?" 

 "But, Dad, I can't play with girl toys," I whispered to him so Julie
wouldn't hear. 

 Dad nodded to show that he understood, but, despite that, he still leaned
in and whispered, "Come on, Son, it won't kill you," and with his stern 'I
mean business' glare, he guided me to Julie's side. "No more arguments,
Benton. Either you play nicely with your new friend, or you may go home."
It was an empty threat, since we were much too far from home for me to
walk. "Understood?" 

 "Yes, Sir," I answered reluctantly. I couldn't bring myself to openly
defy him in front of everybody. Dad slapped my shoulder and winked at me
and then disappeared into the study with Buck, leaving me alone with Julie
and the prospect of an afternoon spent playing with dolls. I was very
disappointed that Dad didn't want me with him, and my hurt quickly turned
into anger. I determined I'd teach him a lesson for dismissing me. *I'll
show him,* I thought to myself. *I will go home.* 

 "'Bye, Julie," I said as I offered a handshake. 

 "'Bye?" she asked. "Where're you goin'?" 

 "Home." Julie didn't offer her hand so I turned and started to make my
way to the front door. 

 "Wait, Ben. I thought we were gonna play?" She ran after me and grabbed
my arm to stop me. 

 I felt a stab of guilt when I saw tears filling Julie's eyes. I knew I'd
probably hurt her as much as my dad had hurt me. "Um, well, you go ahead.
I can't. I gotta go. But thank you, anyway." 

 "We don't have to play with the doll house if you don't wanna. I have
other toys." The poor girl sounded desperate for me to stay. She must have
been as lonely as I was. 

 "I can't. I'm sorry, Julie." I was so full of anger at my dad that all I
wanted to do at that moment was hurt him in any way I could, and I
couldn't worry about hurting anyone else in the process. I ran out the
door, got into the truck, and found the keys in the ignition. I hadn't
noticed that Julie had followed me every step of the way until I found her
sitting in the passenger seat. 

 "You know how to drive?" she asked me, impressed. 

 "Sure, it's easy," I stated hopefully. It certainly looked easy enough
when Dad was doing it. 

 "My dad won't even let me pretend to drive the car. You got a cool dad." 

 Well, I was pretty sure 'cool' wasn't gonna be the word for him when he
got his hands on me after this, but I decided to put that thought out of
my head. "You better go back in the house now so I can go." I looked out
the windows in all directions and asked, "Um, do you know which way my
house is?" 

 "I dunno. Don't you know?" 

 "Yeah, sure. I mean, it's gotta be around here someplace. I'll just drive
'round till I find it." I took a deep breath and put my hand on the key.
"'Kay, you gotta go now," I said as I turned to look at Julie. 

 "No, I'm gonna come with you. This is a lot funner than a doll house!" 

 "You can't come with me." 

 "Why not?" 

 "Just 'cuz. Your parents didn't say you could." 

 "Okay, I'll go ask 'em. Wait for me." 

 "No!" I yelled in a panic. "You can't do that." 

 "Why? Don't you like me, Ben?" 

 "No...um, yes, 'course I do." I was blushing again. *Darn!* 

 "Really? You do?" 

 "Yeah, sure. But..." 

 "But what?" 

 "My dad doesn't know I'm drivin' home. I wanna surprise him. So if you go
ask your parents to come with me, you'll spoil the surprise." 

 "Oh, okay." She didn't sound happy about it, but she agreed anyway. I
breathed a sigh of relief as she seemed about to get out of the car.
Unfortunately, she came up with a better idea. "Take me for a ride first
before you go. Please?" 

 "A ride?" 

 "Yeah, just 'round here. Then I'll go back in the house and I won't tell
anyone where you went. I promise." 

 I wasn't crazy about the idea, but I was in no mood to argue with her, so
I agreed. I sat forward in the car and attempted to reach the gas pedal
with my foot. To my dismay, I found that in order to reach it, I had to
slink so far down that I couldn't see out the window. "Darn!" I cursed
under my breath. 

 "Whattsa matter?" Julie asked. 

 "The pedal's too low. I can't see where I'm goin'." 

 "I thought you said you drove before?" 

 "Um, yeah....but not this car. This one must be bigger." I frantically
tried to think of a solution to this problem. *If only my legs were a
little longer,* I wished to myself. Then it came to me. It was perfect.
Julie. She was just sitting there, doing nothing. She could be my legs.
"Hey, you wanna help drive the car?" 

 "Me? Really? How?" 

 "Come sit here, in front of me." 

 I guided Julie to the floor and pointed out the position of the pedals,
explaining what they were as best as I could. Then I positioned myself at
the edge of the seat so that I could reach the steering wheel and the gear
shift control and straddled my legs around Julie so that her head rested
between them. She didn't look very comfortable all scrunched up on the
floor, but I guess she was enjoying the adventure so much that she didn't
notice her discomfort. I gripped the steering wheel and sighed in
anticipation. 

 "Hey, Ben, there's three pedals, but I only got two feet." 

 "That's okay. You don't use 'em all at the same time. I'll tell you what
to do, don't worry. Okay?" 

 "Okay." 

 "Ready?" I asked, as much to myself as to her. 

 "Yup. Ready." 

 My heart pounded in my chest as I turned the key in the ignition and the
engine roared to life. I took hold of the gear shift knob and tried to
move it, but it wouldn't budge. Then I remembered that Dad had depressed
one of the pedals whenever he moved this knob. So, I instructed Julie to
push down on the clutch, and I was then able to shift the knob into the
first position. I then had Julie depress the accelerator and take her
other foot off the clutch, but before I could explain how this should be
done, she floored the gas pedal and quickly disengaged the clutch. The
truck lurched noisily forward about five meters, then came to an abrupt
stop as the tires squealed and skidded. 

 Julie and I were both thrown about by the car's sudden movements, but
were luckily unharmed. Quite shaken, yes, but physically unharmed. We
hurried out of the truck and found that we had crashed into the gate in
front of the house, totally destroying it. 

 "Uh-oh," I muttered. "Boy am I gonna get it!" 

 "You haven't really drove a car before, have you, Ben?" 

 I looked at Julie then hung my head in shame as I shook it. 

 "Mum and Dad are gonna kill me!" Julie cried as she surveyed the damaged
gate. 

 "No, Julie. It was all my fault. I'll tell 'em I did it." 

 At that moment the Frobishers and my dad came running out of the house
and discovered our accident. Julie's mum rushed over to us to make sure we
weren't hurt, and Dad and Buck stared at the truck and the gate that was
crushed underneath it. 

 "Great Scot!" Buck exclaimed. "What in God's name happened here?" 

 I approached Buck with severe trepidation and confessed, "I did a bad
thing, Sir." 

 "Benton? You are responsible for this?" 

 "Yes, Sir..." 

 "No, Daddy, it wasn't just him," Julie interrupted me. "He couldn't drive
the car by hisself." 

 "Drive the car? I must be hearing things," Dad said as he mimicked trying
to clean an obstruction from his ears. "Please tell me, Son, that you were
not driving the truck." 

 "I can't, Sir," I looked him in the eye and admitted. 

 "You can't what?" 

 "Tell you that." 

 "If I were you I'd try, 'cause, believe me, Son, if you were driving the
truck, you're in more trouble than you can imagine." 

 "I know, Sir. But I'm not allowed to tell a lie." 

 "I see. Well, perhaps you'd better come with me then." 

 "Yes, Sir," I mumbled and moved apprehensively toward my dad, until Buck
grabbed me. 

 "Hold on a minute, there, young Fraser. And you, too, young lady." He
snatched Julie from her mum's side and stood her next to me before him.
"Are you two all right? Anyone hurt?" 

 "We're okay, Daddy." 

 "Good...well...you both got a lot of explaining to do! You were supposed
to be playing in the house. And I think you know, little Missy, that you
are not allowed near a car unless an adult is with you. You could have
been seriously hurt." 

 "I know, Daddy. I'm sorry." 

 "Were you in the truck with Benton?" 

 "Uh huh. Are I in big trouble, too?" 

 "Yes, I should say so. You've both been very, very naughty," he scolded
us gently but firmly. 

 "Don't be mad at Julie, Sir. It was my fault." 

 "I see. So, it was your idea to crash the truck into my gate, was it?" 

 "Um, no, Sir. That part was a mistake." 

 "Believe me, Son, that wasn't your only mistake," Dad interjected
sternly. 

 "No, Sir," I whispered as I hung my head. 

 "All right, then, let's go." Dad grabbed me by the collar and started to
pull me after him. "Buck, may Benton and I use your study for a minute?" 

 "Now, Bob, don't be too hard on the boy. Remember, no one was hurt," Buck
said. 

 "Yeah, well someone's sure gonna be hurting when I'm through with him!" 

 "Wait, Mr. Fraser," Julie yelled after us. Dad stopped and we watched
Julie go to the truck and pick up something from the front seat. She then
ran over to me, carrying my Stetson, and placed it on my head. "Here, wear
this -- for good luck," she whispered in my ear and then kissed my cheek. 

 "Thanks," I replied shyly, and then Dad resumed dragging me into the
house by the scruff of my neck. 

 

 "Take off the hat, please," Dad ordered as he closed the study door. 

 I obeyed and held the Stetson tight in my hands, nervously fingering and
fumbling with the brim. To say Dad was angry would be an understatement.
And, as much as I was dreading what was about to happen as he towered over
me, removing his belt from around his waist, it was his anger that I found
most worrisome. 

 "I'm sorry, Dad," I offered feebly. 

 "I'm afraid 'sorry' isn't good enough." He folded the belt in half and
held the buckle in his hand. 

 "I didn't cover up what I did," I reminded him. 

 "Uh huh. Go bend over the desk," he commanded in a subdued voice while
directing me with his arm. 

 I walked solemnly over to the desk, followed closely by Dad, then turned
to face him. "Will 'sorry' be enough after you spank me, Dad?" 

 "No, it won't! Nothing is going to be enough, Benton!" He took my Stetson
from me and threw it onto the desk, then let his obvious anger explode.
"What the hell was going through your mind? Aside from the fact that it's
illegal for a seven-year-old to drive a car, you could've killed yourself.
And to put that little girl's life in danger as well, well, that is
unforgivable, Son. Unforgivable!" 

 "Yes, Sir," I cried as I turned and lay across the desk. Yes, I was
crying. With wild abandon. But I didn't care that I was about to be
belted. I had known from the moment I decided to pull this stunt that I'd
get it in the end, so to speak. And, in my anger and resolve to get back
at Dad, I'd accepted that fate. The blush of chastisement would fade
quickly; however, I could not endure to be unforgivable. 

 Dad became even angrier when he saw my tears. He hoisted me from the desk
by the seat of my pants and turned me around to face him. "I want you to
dry those tears this instant! You know how I feel about that, Son. Don't
you think you deserve to be punished?" 

 "I guess," I sobbed. 

 "All right, then, stop crying." 

 I tried to comply, but was unable to stop my tears. 

 "That was an order, Mister, and if you know what's good for you, you'll
obey me." 

 "I'm trying, Dad, but I can't." 

 "Don't be ridiculous," he replied with great irritation. "Of course you
can. You know I'm just gonna give your bottom a little sting. There's no
need to blow it all out of proportion." 

 "I'm not crying about that." 

 "Then what in God's name are you crying about?" 

 I was now crying with such heartbreak that I could barely speak. "You're
not ever gonna forgive me, Sir." 

 "What?" 

 I thought he didn't hear me, so I repeated, "You're not ever gonna
forgive me." 

 Dad was silent for what seemed like forever, while I continued to sob.
Finally, he sighed and sat down on the edge of the desk. He placed his
folded belt on the desktop, rubbed his hands together a few times, and
sighed again. "Come here, Ben. Come closer." 

 I approached until I stood just in front of him. I was ashamed to look
him in the eye, so I looked straight ahead, weeping and watching him wring
his hands as they lay in his lap. Suddenly, one of the hands disappeared
and seconds later it was offering me a handkerchief. 

 "Here, Cadet, use this. Settle yourself down. That's an order." 

 He'd called me 'Cadet.' Not Ben or Benton or Son, but Cadet. He was
playing our game with me. I dried my tears and blew my nose then stood at
attention before my father, my sergeant. 

 "All right. That's better. Now, do you know what 'exaggeration' is,
Cadet?" he asked me. 

 "No, Sir. Is it something I did, Sir?" 

 "No, it's something I did. When I said what you did was 'unforgivable,' I
was exaggerating." 

 "Oh." I furrowed my brow and guessed, "Is it like yelling at someone,
Sir?" 

 "No, no, no. Nothing like that. When you exaggerate, you are saying
something you don't really mean." 

 "Like lying, Sir?" 

 "No, not like lying!" He was very frustrated for a moment, but quickly
calmed himself down. I looked him in the eye intently as he continued his
explanation. "Look at it this way. When I said 'unforgivable,' what I
actually meant was, er, 'very wrong.' Do you see?" 

 "I guess. You can't forgive me 'cause what I did was very wrong, Sir?" 

 "Oh dear!" he lamented. "I do have a serious-minded Son, don't I?" 

 I looked up and saw him wrinkle his face in consternation. When he
noticed my anxiety, he softened his expression and began to caress my
shoulder. 

 "Okay, let's try something else," he said. "Um, let me see. Okay. Pay
attention." 

 "Yes, Sir." 

 "Okay, I'm a lot bigger than you are, right?" 

 "Yes, Sir." 

 "Right. Now, if I were to say that I'm a billion times bigger than you, I
would be exaggerating. Understand?" 

 I didn't really know precisely how much a billion was, but I knew it was
a lot. I laughed as I tried to picture Dad being a billion times bigger
than me. "You'd be a giant, Sir!" 

 "Yes, now you've got it." Dad seemed pleased by my laughter and he smiled
back. 

 My mind raced as I tried to apply this concept to Dad's 'unforgivable'
comment. "Does that mean some day you'll forgive me, Sir?" 

 Dad just looked at me for several seconds before responding. "Yes, it
does." 

 "Understood, Sir." 

 Dad saw me eye his belt where it lay on the desktop, and he quickly
glanced at it and then looked back at me. I was hoping we could just get
the punishment over with, but Dad started to walk about the room with his
arms folded in front of him, mumbling under his breath. I heard him say my
mum's name a couple times, just as if she were right there with us and he
was talking to her. At one point he uttered, almost as if against his
will, "If anything had happened to you, Son, I don't know what I would've
done." 

 "Yes, Sir," I mumbled in reply. It had only been about a year since my
mum had died suddenly, so I imagine it was still on Dad's mind as much as
it was on mine. "I'm sorry, Sir. I didn't think anything would happen." 

 "No? Well, what did you think? What could possibly have prompted you to
do such a stupid thing?" 

 "I dunno, Sir." 

 "Yes, you do." 

 "But I'm not s'posed to make 'scuses, Dad. You and Grandma said so." 

 "I don't want you to justify what you did. I want you to tell me why you
did it." 

 My young mind didn't comprehend the difference, but it did comprehend
that my father was giving me an order and it would be wise for me to obey.
"Oh," I answered, still hesitating to explain myself until I could think
of a way to say it without sounding like a smart aleck. 

 Dad apparently sensed my uneasiness and he came over to me, lifted me,
and stood me on top of the desk. "There. Now we're eye-to-eye, man-to-man.
Let's hear it, Cadet." 

 He must've been some kind of genius. Not that I suddenly felt on a par
with him just because we were standing at equal height, but I did believe
that he honestly wanted me to level with him, and I felt that it was safe
to do so. 

 "You said if I didn't wanna play with Julie, I could go home, Sir." 

 "Ha!" Dad burst out with spontaneous amusement. "Are you kidding me?" 

 "No, Sir. That's what you said." 

 "I know that's what I said, Ben, but I didn't mean it!" Dad was
gesticulating and pacing as he spoke, and I wondered if I was actually
convincing him that I'd taken him seriously. 

 "Oh. Were you 'zaggerating, Dad?" I had him over a barrel now. I was sure
of it. 

 Dad gave me a searching stare, which seemed to change before my eyes into
a conspiratorial smile. "Yes, I suppose you could say that." 

 "Oh." 

 Dad looked me in the eye and I looked him in the eye, and we both knew
that I had not misunderstood him, but had acted deliberately. The only
question was would Dad call me on it? 

 "You didn't really think I'd let you get away with this, did you, Son?"
he asked in a gently reproving tone. 

 *Yup! He's gonna call me on it, all right!* "I guess not, Sir," I
admitted quietly. 

 "Smart man." 

 We continued to look at each other in silence for a moment, as I
anxiously awaited Dad's next move. Finally, I decided to give it to him
straight. 

 "I didn't think you wanted me around." 

 Dad dropped his head in despair and put his hands on his hips. "That's
not fair, Ben." He looked back up at me and I squirmed to see his
annoyance. "I wasn't trying to get rid of you by sending you to play with
Julie. I thought you'd enjoy having someone to play with. I know it's
lonely for you at Grandma and Grandpa's." 

 *Can't you see that the person I'm lonely for is you?* I wanted to scream
at the top of my lungs. Instead I said nothing. 

 "Do you remember what you said to me in the car, earlier today?" 

 "What, Sir?" 

 "You said you didn't want me to be mad at you." 

 "Uh huh. I 'member." But I was shocked that he remembered. 

 "Well, I could say the same to you, Ben." 

 *Then why don't you?* rang through my head. But I knew my dad wasn't up
to uttering such words. So I guessed this was his way of apologizing and
yelling at me all rolled into one. "Understood, Sir. I'm sorry I was
naughty." 

 "Guess I can't blame you entirely. I was the one who left the keys in the
truck." Dad gave me a nod and a friendly punch in the arm. What I really
yearned for was to bury myself in his warm embrace, but I knew that wasn't
gonna happen. That just wasn't Dad. So I smiled and punched him back -- as
hard as I could. 

 "Hey, watch that, Cadet! There's rules against assaulting a superior
officer, y'know!" he feigned sternness while clutching his newly-disabled
arm. He gave me a sideways glance and added, "Well, I couldn't possibly do
justice with that belt now. Er, Son, you may as well, if you wouldn't
mind, would you just grab that for me?" he asked, nodding his head toward
the desktop. 

 I reached down and grabbed the belt. Dad winked when he took it from me,
and I had to restrain myself from throwing my arms around him and hugging
him tightly as he fastened the belt around his waist. "What're you gonna
do to me to punish me, Dad?" 

 "Nothing. I'm, er...nothing." 

 "You're lettin' me go, Sir? Even though I broke the law?" 

 Dad smiled and leaned in conspiratorially. "Don't tell anyone, eh, Cadet?
If this got out, it'd ruin my credibility." 

 "Your what?" 

 "Nobody'd respect me anymore. I'd be the laughingstock of the RCMP." 

 "I respect you, Sir," I stated in all sincerity. 

 "You do, eh? You wouldn't kid your old man, would you?" 

 "No, um, maybe sometimes," I teased, and Dad poked me playfully in the
ribs, bringing a smile to my face. I took his hand which had tickled me
and shook it with a firm grasp. 

 Dad smiled and returned my handshake with an equally firm grasp. "Strong
grip you got there, Cadet Fraser. That's the grip of a man who knows his
mind. Er, just be careful that mind of yours doesn't get you in trouble,
eh?" 

 "Okay, Sir. I'll be good." 

 "Yes, I expect you will. But, I'm afraid you're not completely off the
hook. Buck might still want a piece of you. You'd better get your sorry
butt out there and make amends." 

 "Huh?" 

 "Make up for what you did," he clarified. 

 "How can I do that, Dad?" 

 "I haven't the foggiest, Son. But you have to try. An apology might be a
good place to start." 

 I nodded in agreement. I liked Buck. He was always nice to me. In fact,
he was almost like a second father to me, considering I saw almost as much
of him as I did of Dad. But to have to answer to two dads when I did wrong
seemed cruel and unusual punishment! 

 Dad offered his hand and I took it and jumped to the floor. When we got
as far as the door, Dad stopped, grabbed my shirt and leaned down to me
and warned, "Let me make something crystal clear, Benton. If you ever,
EVER, try something like this again, you won't sit for a week when I
finish with ya! And, if I were you, I wouldn't test me on this one, 'cause
you'll find out I'm not exaggerating!" 

 "Okay, Dad. I mean, understood, Sir." 

 

 We found Buck slouched, asleep, in the recliner in the living room. A
book he'd apparently been reading had fallen to the floor beside him. I
stood next to Buck, watching him sleep with his mouth wide open. After a
while, I felt Dad give my ear a gentle tug and I looked up to face him. 

 "Well? Get on with it, Son. No sense putting it off." 

 "But he's asleep, Sir." 

 Dad put his hand on my shoulder and leaned over me to study Buck. "Ah,
yes, so he is. Quite right. Well, perhaps you'd better wake him up." 

 "Won't he be mad if I do that?" 

 "Oh, he's a mad bugger already, Ben. I don't suppose you could possibly
do him any harm." 

 I looked at Dad quizzically, and he laughed and tousled my hair. 

 "Go ahead, Son. You're not afraid, are you?" 

 "Uh-uh. No, Sir." I'd learned that with Dad it was more prudent to deny
fear, even if that would be lying, than to admit that I was scared. 

 "Good man." 

 I moved closer to Buck and slowly reached out my hand and placed it on
his arm. I didn't want to startle him, so I very gently pressed my hand
into his arm and shook it back and forth. His body jumped and he snorted,
but he didn't wake up. 

 "Go on. Give 'im a good tug," my dad egged me on, mimicking the action on
his own arm. 

 I scrunched up my face and held my breath and pulled on Buck's arm,
almost as if I would pull it out of its socket. Buck shot up in his seat,
wide-eyed and grabbing his arm, and I backed away from him until I'd found
a harbor against my father's body. 

 "What?" Buck asked, looking around until he saw us. "Oh. Well. Yes." He
coughed nervously, then stood up. "I was beginning to wonder if you two
got lost in there. Everything, um, er, settled?" 

 I nodded my head slightly and Dad patted my head and said "We, er,
understand each other." 

 "Well, fine. Glad to hear it. Carry on, Cadet," Buck said and then turned
to walk away. 

 "Um, Sir," I stammered, as Dad pushed me forward, closer to Buck. 

 "What is it, Cadet?" 

 "Um...it's your gate, Sir..." 

 "Hmm, not much of a gate anymore, is it?" 

 "No, Sir, it's not. I'm sorry. I guess I didn't see it." 

 "Yeah, well, it was old and worn, anyway." 

 Dad cleared his throat loudly in my direction, and I knew it was my cue.
"I shouldn't a'been driving the car and I shouldn't a'let Julie help me,"
I stated. 

 "Darn tootin', Cadet!" Then Buck realized what I'd said. "Help you? Julie
helped you?" 

 *Oh dear! I really put my foot in my mouth!* I had to think fast. "Um,
yeah, you know. Like how my mum sometimes helped my dad when he was
driving." 

 Dad and Buck gave each other knowing glances and said "Ah,"
simultaneously. 

 "Yes, well, then, no wonder you crashed the gate!" Buck leaned closer to
me and advised, "You shoulda made her get out of the car first." 

 "Buck!" my dad shouted at him. "Have you lost your mind?" 

 "Huh? Oh...I see," Buck blushed in embarrassment. "Quite right. Quite
right. You shoulda got out of the car as well, young Fraser." 

 "I know, Sir. I will next time. I promise." 

 "Fine, Benton. That's fine." Buck stared at me for a second then added,
"You're dismissed, Cadet." 

 "That's it, Sir? You don't wanna yell at me any more?" In actuality, Buck
hadn't even raised his voice to me. But, when a kid knows he's guilty of
something, any words from a grown- up are considered yelling. 

 "Er, no, no. I'm, uh, finished yelling. You may go." 

 "Thank you, Sir." 

 "Benton, perhaps you'd better stick with me, eh?" Dad said. 

 "Yes, Sir, but..." 

 "But...?" Dad asked. 

 "Um...well...I could play with Julie if you want." 

 "Is that what you want?" 

 "I guess, yeah. If you'll let me, Sir," I turned to Buck to ask. 

 Buck smiled at me. "She's in her room. Run along." 

 "Yes, Sir." I smiled broadly and saluted first Buck then my dad before
leaving the room. 

 

 So, I guess I have to admit that playing with Julie's doll house wasn't
as bad as I thought it'd be. Mind you, it was never gonna be my first
choice of a toy, but we had quite a lot of fun with our game of
make-believe. And Julie was especially pleased to not have to be the
voices for all the dolls, for once. 

 We played until dinnertime, and then after dinner we sat on the floor by
the fire and listened to our dads tell stories of their adventures
together. Julie leaned against me as she began to nod off, so I guided her
head onto my lap. Although feeling her in such intimate contact with me
brought back memories from earlier that day which I would have preferred
to forget, I couldn't help but feel that she belonged there in my lap, as
if she were now a part of me. 

 I caressed Julie's arm as I watched her sleeping, and the steady, slow
rhythm of her breathing, along with the voices of Dad and Buck, had a
hypnotic effect on me until I, too, was fast asleep, with my head propped
against my dad's legs as he sat in his chair. I was brought back to a
semi-conscious state when Buck picked up Julie and Dad moved me to my
bedroll by the hearth. 

 "No, Daddy! I wanna sleep in here with Ben," I heard Julie whine as her
father started to carry her to her room. 

 "You'll be much more comfortable in your own bed, sweetie," Buck answered
her. 

 "Please, Daddy! I'll go right to sleep, I promise." 

 "Oh, let 'em have an adventure, Buck," Dad urged him. "I'll be right here
on the couch." Seconds later, Dad was whispering "Scooch over, Son," and
gently moving me over to make room for Julie. 

 As my new friend settled in next to me and I felt the warmth of her body
and inhaled her breath, I was filled with an overwhelming sense of
well-being and security that I hadn't felt since my younger days when I
used to crawl into bed with my mum after waking from a nightmare. Buck
pulled the blanket snugly over both of us and I heard him kiss his
daughter good night. I ached for such a sign of affection, but, of course,
that wasn't up to Buck. Instead, he ran his hand through my hair and
patted my head. I was almost immediately back into a deep sleep. 

 

 Dad and Buck were discussing Mountie business the next morning, as we
stood outside the truck, preparing to leave. Julie had tears in her eyes
as we said good-bye, but I, of course, put up a brave front and refused to
show her that I was going to miss her as much as she was going to miss me.


 "Jump in, Ben," Dad said as we were finally ready to leave. 

 I started to get into the car, but Julie grabbed my hand to stop me. She
wrapped her arms tightly around me, then looked at my face and, without
warning, planted a big kiss, smack on my lips, knocking the Stetson off of
my head. I was flabbergasted and didn't know how to respond, so I did the
only thing I could think of -- placed my lips gently on hers and returned
the affection. It was quite nice, but I think I must have lingered a
little too long as suddenly Buck was pulling me away from her by the seat
of my pants. 

 "All right, Cadet," he said as he placed my Stetson back on my head. "I
think that should about do it." 

 "Yes, Sir. 'Bye, Julie." I smiled shyly at her. 

 "'Bye, Ben. I'm glad you could come play with me." 

 I nodded, then felt my dad nudge me. He greeted me with a knowing grin as
he motioned for me to get into the car. As I did, I heard Buck warn my
dad, "You'd better keep a close eye on that one, Bob. He's gonna break
some hearts." 

 "Naturally," Dad answered proudly as he got into the car and sat beside
me. "He's a chip off the old block!" 

 

 The long drive home was made even longer because Dad decided to take a
little side trip. He wouldn't tell me where we were going, just that he
had a surprise for me. When we pulled up at the remote RCMP Post, I
grabbed my hat off the dash and jumped out of the car excitedly. Even
though he hadn't told me where we were, I recognized it right away from
Dad's descriptions of these places during his endless tales of life as a
Mountie. 

 It was a very modest building, little more than a small, wooden shack. We
went inside and were greeted with pleasant surprise by the one Constable
who was responsible for maintaining that post as well as the law in the
surrounding area. I think he was very glad for the company because he
seemed as eager to show me around the place as I was to be shown around. 

 The interior of the building was as plain as the outside, but I was
fascinated by the equipment that filled it. There was an assortment of
guns and ammunition, a bulletin board that sported several "WANTED"
posters and other official-looking documents, a big map of the country
with colored pins stuck in it at various locations, and, best of all, the
coolest radio I'd ever seen. The entire time we were there, voices were
constantly coming on, introduced and followed by loud static, with
information and requests for information. Once or twice, the Constable
excused himself from us and responded to these calls. My eyes followed his
every move as he lifted the transmitter and expertly worked the various
knobs and switches. 

 Dad noticed my fascination with the radio, so later on, after the
Constable had given me a thorough tour of the place, he took me behind the
desk for a closer look at it. He pointed out all the features and
explained their functions and then, much to my great amazement, offered me
the controls and asked who I'd like to call. 

 "I don't know anybody," I answered, wishing I did because I couldn't
imagine anything more fun at that moment than being the staticky voice
emanating from any number of RCMP radios across the country. 

 "Nonsense," Dad said and handed me the transmitter as he manipulated the
controls on the panel. "Okay, Son. Speak into there." 

 "What should I say?" 

 "Oh, right...say 'RCMP Inuvik Satellite calling Tuktoyaktuk. Come in
Tuktoyaktuk. Over.'" 

 "Who's that, Dad?" I was curious to know before placing my call. 

 "You'll see. Go ahead. Say what I told you." 

 With a little extra prompting, I recited my father's words into the
transmitter, then we all waited for a response. Just as I was wondering if
I had done it wrong, the tell-tale static of an incoming signal sounded
from the speaker, followed by a voice that seemed strangely familiar. 

 "This is Tuktoyaktuk responding. Come back Inuvik Satellite. Over." 

 "Dad, it sounds like Buck!" 

 "That's because it is Buck." 

 I did know somebody after all! "I thought it was s'posed to be somebody
different? Tukyuktac?" 

 "Say something else, Ben. He's waiting for you," Dad urged me with a
laugh. 

 I panicked momentarily, unsure what I was supposed to do now that Buck
had answered my call. 

 "Go ahead, Ben. Say anything. He can hear you now." 

 My mind raced as I tried to think of something important to say,
something that would justify the use of such a large, complicated piece of
equipment. 

 "Identify yourself. Tell him who you are. That's always a good place to
start," Dad advised. 

 "Um, hello, Sir. This is Ben--I mean, Cadet Benton Fraser. My fath--um,
Sergeant Fraser ordered me to call you, Sir." 

 "You have to say 'Fraser over,' Son, so he knows you're finished
transmitting." 

 "Oh, okay, um...Fraser over." I looked at my dad and grinned. This was
the most exciting thing I'd ever done in all my seven years. 

 "Ah, Cadet, yes, I've been expecting to hear from you. There's someone
here who would like to speak to you." 

 I waited anxiously as the radio fell silent, wondering who the heck would
want to talk to me. Seconds later, a new voice came over the speaker. My
heart leapt when I realized it was Julie's voice. 

 "Hi, Ben." 

 "Well? Answer her, Ben!" my dad urged me when I failed to respond after
several seconds. 

 "She didn't say 'over.'" 

 Dad chuckled, but before he could say anything, Julie spoke again. 

 "Ben? Are you there?" 

 I looked at Dad, and he motioned for me to reply, so I did. "Hi, Julie.
This is Cadet Benton Fraser." I started to move the transmitter away from
my mouth to wait for her response, but then I remembered and added,
"...Over." 

 "I know it's you, silly!" 

 I smiled to myself and blushed slightly at her teasing. Now this was
definitely more fun than playing with dolls! We talked for a couple
minutes about this and that. I don't remember exactly what we said because
I was just too elated to take in such details. Until... 

 "You wanna be my boyfriend, Ben?" 

 I was speechless. I looked to my dad and asked "Can I, Dad?" 

 "Er, well, you, uh, want a girlfriend?" 

 I shrugged and said, "Sure, I guess." 

 "Well, then..." He said no more. 

 I was just about to speak into the transmitter when a sobering thought
struck. "Um, Dad?" 

 "Yeah, Son?" 

 "How many people are hearing us talk over the radio?" I was kind of put
off by the possibility of Mounties all over the country knowing about my
love life. 

 Dad smiled. "Just us and, er, Julie and her father." 

 "Oh. Good." 

 

 I ran into the house eager to tell my grandma all about my adventure with
Dad. I found her in the kitchen preparing dinner and began blithering as
fast as I could get the words out. 

 "Whoa, there, honey!" Grandma stopped me with a laugh. "Don't I get a
hello kiss first?" 

 I threw my arms around Grandma's neck and she squeezed me tight and
kissed both cheeks. "Well, now, did you mind your father like a good boy
while you were away?" 

 I was taken aback by this question and turned to look at Dad. After all,
it hadn't all been smooth sailing, had it? 

 "Of course he did. Did everything I told him...and more. Eh, Son?" 

 I didn't say anything at first, but then Dad threw me a big wink and my
face relaxed into a broad smile. "Uh huh." 

 "I'm glad you had a good time, honey." 

 "Oh, Grandma! Dad took me to the RMPC..." 

 "RCMP, Son." 

 "Right. The RCMP Station, and I got to go inside the cell and I looked at
all the guns - but I didn't touch 'em, Grandma..." I was careful to point
out, "...and I saw where the Mountie sleeps and cooks his food and takes a
bath and, oh, Grandma, I got to talk on the radio!" 

 "Really? Well, that must've been exciting!" 

 "Oh, it was! We called Buck over at a different station and I told him I
was Cadet Benton Fraser calling and then...oh, and guess what, Grandma?" 

 "What, dear?" 

 "I got a girlfriend!" 

 Grandma gave me a queer expression then turned her gaze to my dad.
"Aren't you a little young for a girlfriend, Ben?" she asked me while
looking at Dad. 

 "Dad said I could. I asked him first." 

 "Oh, I see," she said, glaring at Dad. 

 "Now, Mother, relax. It's harmless." 

 "Uh huh..." 

 "She's a girl. She's his friend." 

 "Uh huh..." 

 "She's Buck's daughter, Julie. They played together at the Frobisher's." 

 "Yeah, Grandma. I even played with her doll house, so I'd be polite like
you want me to." 

 "See? Harmless." 

 "And after supper, Dad and Buck told us stories and we fell asleep on my
bedroll and when me and Dad left today she gave me a kiss right here," I
put my finger to my lips, "...and I gave her one back. And then--" 

 Dad cupped his hand over my mouth and laughed nervously. "Er, Son, a man
of honor doesn't kiss and tell, eh?" 

 I looked up at him and nodded, and he removed his hand from my mouth.
"Sorry." I felt kind of sorry for Dad because of the way Grandma was
questioning him. I'd been there myself once or twice, and it was
definitely enough to ruin an otherwise perfectly good day. 

 "I think perhaps I should meet this friend of Ben's," Grandma said. 

 "Certainly. No problem," Dad agreed. 

 "Can she come visit, Dad? Can she?" I pleaded. 

 "You'll have to ask your grandmother about that, Son. As well as Julie's
parents." 

 "Oh, Grandma, please!" I begged, grasping the pleats of her skirt between
my fingers. "Please say 'yes'! We could have a sleep-over in front of the
fireplace, just like we did at her house." 

 Grandma loosened my grip on her skirt and held my hand in hers. "Um, no,
honey. Julie may come visit if it's okay with her parents, but if she
does, you will offer her your bed and you can sleep on the couch. All
right?" 

 I was too excited for words! I embraced Grandma's legs and buried my face
in her skirt. "Thanks, Grandma!" 

 

 Dad stayed home for about a week and we spent that time getting
reacquainted. He and Grandpa and I went fishing almost every day and we
stocked the freezer with enough fish to feed us for at least the next
month. Dad took me into the woods and tried to teach me a little about
tracking a suspect, but when I invariably lost the trail, he'd end up
leaving bigger and bigger tracks until I triumphantly snagged my prey. By
the end of the week, Dad had made me believe I was truly ready for the
Academy. 

 That week sticks in my mind now as a good-bye of sorts. I don't think we
spent that much time together at one time during the rest of my childhood.
It was usually just a day here and a day there, and, even when he did come
home for any length of time, we acted more like strangers with each other
than friends. I suppose that was as much my fault as his because I
resisted getting too close to him. That took a good deal of the sting out
of Dad's eventual departures. 

 On the morning Dad was to leave to return to his duties, I awoke with a
deep melancholy and a pain as if I'd just been kicked in the gut. But I
knew Dad would be very irritated with me if I showed how I was feeling, so
I got out of bed and washed up, put on my good clothes and shoes, brushed
my hair, and went out to the kitchen, carrying my Stetson at my side. This
was my improvised Mountie dress uniform. 

 "Cadet Benton Fraser reporting, Sir." I stood at attention and saluted my
dad as he sat at the kitchen table with Grandma and Grandpa. Dad stood up
and answered my salute, and I was so glad we had this game to play.
Otherwise, I think I would have burst into tears when I saw him and knew
he was going to be leaving within the hour. 

 All eyes in the room were on me as Dad circled me, making a thorough
inspection. He gave a little tug to the hem of my blazer to ensure it hung
straight, then he stepped back and stroked his chin while taking in the
whole picture. At last, he gave a little hum and a nod and pronounced,
"Very nice, Cadet. Excellent. Ship shape." 

 I couldn't hide my pleasure at hearing this and I smiled as I let out a
slight sigh and my body relaxed just a little. "Thank you, Sir." 

 Dad took the Stetson from my hand and placed it carefully on the counter
and then led me to the table. "Sit down, Cadet. Your breakfast is ready."
I sat as Dad went over to the stove to prepare my plate. Grandma and
Grandpa both smiled at me, and I forced myself to smile back. "I fixed you
your favorite," Dad announced. "Pancakes and sausage." 

 "Yes, Sir!" I answered with forced enthusiasm. It was true; that was my
favorite breakfast. Ever since Dad had introduced me to the joy of rolling
the pancake around the sausage link and eating it like a sandwich. But I
wasn't sure I was going to be able to eat anything on that particular
morning. I doubted I would enjoy it, at any rate. 

 Dad placed my plate before me and sat back down to his own meal. "Go
ahead, Cadet," he said when he noticed I hadn't made a move. "It'll get
cold if you let it sit there. Clean your plate and make me proud." 

 That was all I needed to hear. I'd have done anything to make my dad
proud of me. So, I made my little pigs-in-a-blanket and swallowed them
without a thought to savoring their taste. 

 

 "Good-bye, Sir," I said without emotion as I offered a handshake to my
dad. The time had come. Buck had arrived, and he and Dad were on their way
out the door and heaven only knew when I'd see my father again.
Nevertheless, I looked Dad in the eye and extended my hand and refused to
allow a hint of sadness to show in my manner. 

 Dad grasped my hand firmly and gave me a friendly squeeze on my shoulder
with his other hand. "Good-bye, Son." He winked and smiled, but I was
unable to respond in kind. I was afraid if I attempted to force a smile, I
would lose my composure. "I'll, er, come home when I can. You behave
yourself in the meantime, eh?" 

 "Yes, Sir, I will." As I looked at Dad, I could've sworn for a moment
that he wanted to take me in his arms and embrace me, and I wished that,
just this once, he would. But the next thing I knew, he and Buck were in
the truck and I was watching them from the doorway as they drove out of
sight. 

 "Come inside, honey," Grandma whispered sweetly into my ear as she hugged
me from behind. "Your visitor is waiting for you." 

 "Grandma..." 

 "What is it, sweetie?" 

 "Nothin'." I was going to ask when Dad would be home. Not that I thought
Grandma would be able to answer that question, but I felt a need to let
someone know how much I missed him already. But I judged that Grandma knew
how I was feeling because of the way she was squeezing me and the tender
kiss she had placed upon my ear. I turned to face my grandmother and she
smiled and took my hand and we went into the house. 

 The day was still salvageable. Buck had brought Julie with him when he
came for Dad, and she was going to spend the week with me. It was very
rare that I ever had a playmate my own age, and Julie was so much more
than that. I could talk to her about the emptiness I felt every time my
dad abandoned me and she would understand, because her father probably
wasn't at home any more than mine. And, on top of that...she was my
girlfriend. She made me feel so grown up. More so even than my dad's
constant insistence that I was a man. 

 I ran over to Julie and greeted her properly by flinging my arms around
her and treating myself to another touch of her lips, just as I'd seen the
older kids in the village do whenever my grandparents took me with them on
their errands. Suddenly, in mid-kiss, I felt a pull at my ear and turned
to discover my grandmother firmly, although not harshly, re-directing my
attentions. 

 "Honey, I'm afraid that is improper behavior for a young man of your
age." She was now caressing my ear between her fingers. 

 "It is?" *Darn! I wish these adults would decide if I'm a grown-up man or
not!* I thought to myself. *I mean, Dad didn't yell at me when I kissed
her before.* "But I thought boyfriends and girlfriends were s'posed to
kiss?" 

 Grandma crouched to our level and put one arm around me and the other
around Julie. "I'm very pleased that you two are so fond of each other,
but you are children, and children don't--" She cut herself off and
struggled for what she wanted to say. "Boyfriends and girlfriends your age
kiss each other on the cheek. Okay?" 

 "Okay, Grandma," I replied. I knew a kiss on the cheek would pale in
comparison, but I had to obey my grandmother. At least when she was
watching. So, I leaned in to Julie and buried my lips in her cheek with a
loud smack. If it wasn't gonna be as much fun as a kiss on the lips, at
least it was gonna be done with feeling. "Like that, you mean, Grandma?" 

 Grandma took my chin in her hand and ran her thumb across my lips then
pinched my cheek. "Yes, dear, and I think that'll do for now," she said
with a note of warning in her voice as she stood back up. Grandma would
usually overlook a little cheekiness, provided I didn't go overboard, so I
took her warning to heart. "Run along and play, or, if you prefer, I'm
sure I can find something to keep you busy." 

 *Ugh! No! Not that! There must be something we can do!* I was sure that
if we didn't find something to do on our own, Grandma would sit us down
with a couple books from the library and make us study. And that was not
my idea of a good time with my new girlfriend! But, I didn't have any
toys... 

 "Oh, Mrs. Fraser, I forgot. My daddy gave me this to give to Ben." Julie
fetched a box with a red ribbon tied around it from the corner table. 

 "Well, dear, I guess you'd better give it to him, then, eh?" Grandma
smiled at her. 

 Julie handed me the box and I just stood there, holding it in my hands.
"For me? What is it?" I couldn't imagine. 

 "It's a present, silly! What d'ya think?" 

 "How come? It's not my birthday or even Christmas or anything." 

 "Open it, honey," Grandma coaxed. "Don't keep us in suspense." 

 The box was rather heavy so I set it on the floor and knelt beside it. I
was pretty sure it wasn't a book. The shape of the box was all wrong for a
book, as was the weight distribution of the contents. With great
curiosity, I broke the ribbon and lifted the top off the box, and when I
saw what was inside, I let out the loudest, longest, most enthusiastic
"Wow!" humanly possible. 

 "What is it, dear?" Grandma asked, as she peered down into the box. 

 "Oh, my gosh! Look, Grandma!" I lifted the box and held it up for her to
see. "Walkie- talkies! Real walkie-talkies!" And they were real, too. They
weren't toys. "Do I really get to keep 'em, Grandma? Huh?" 

 "Yes, it would appear so, honey. Ah, there's a note," Grandma said as she
lifted it out of the box. 

 "Could you read it to me, please, Grandma?" I was dying to know how I'd
come into such great fortune. 

 "Certainly, Ben." She cleared her throat and began while I stared at her
and listened intently. 'Dear Ben - forgive me, I meant to say Cadet Fraser
- The RCMP has very generously supplied us with some brand new equipment.
These walkie-talkies were used by your father and myself for several years
and, due to our meticulous care of them, are still in perfect working
order. Rather than toss them into some storage cupboard where they'd die a
slow death from misuse, I thought you might be able to give them a good
home where they would be well looked- after. I'm sure your grandmother
would be very pleased to have you share them with your friends - as would
I. Enjoy. With affection, Your friend, Duncan "Buck" Frobisher, RCMP.'" 

 I'd never received a letter like that before. Not even from my own
father. I was touched, to say the least. He'd called me his friend. 'With
affection' he'd said. I stood up, leaving the box on the floor, and went
over to Grandma. "Can I see?" I asked, holding out my hand for the letter.


 "Of course you may," she answered, always taking the opportunity to
correct my grammar. "It's your letter, dear." 

 I looked over the handwritten note, reading the parts I could and
recalling the rest of it in my mind. I resolved to learn every last word
in this letter. "Will you help me read it, Grandma?" 

 "Later, honey," she said. "And I'll also help you write a nice thank-you
to Mr. Frobisher." 

 "Thanks, Grandma." 

 "You're very welcome. But right now, why don't you entertain your guest,
okay?" 

 "Can we go outside and play with the walkie-talkies?" 

 "Yes, you may. But don't wander off too far." 

 "Cool!" I grabbed the walkie-talkies from the box and motioned for Julie
to follow me as I ran toward the door. "Come on, Julie! Let's go play
Secret Spy!" 

 "Whoa there, little spy!" Grandma snatched me by the arm. "You're not
going anywhere in those good clothes. You go change first and then you may
go outside to play." 

 "Oh, 'kay." I handed Julie the walkie-talkies and said, "Be right back."
Then I ran to my room and made the quickest uniform change in history. A
little too quick, in fact, because I got an earful from Grandma later on
about my failure to properly put away my good clothes after taking them
off. 

 As Julie and I were about to go out the door, I suddenly had a thought,
so I ran to the kitchen and retrieved my Stetson from the counter. As I
met Julie again at the door, I placed the hat on her head and looked at
her and smiled. 

 "But my dad said I wasn't s'posed to wear--" 

 "Shhh," I put my finger to my mouth and hushed her. "It's pretty on ya." 

 

 That night, Grandma and I tucked Julie into my bed. 

 "You know, Grandma, there's enough room for both of us in my bed if we
squeeze together." I was not looking forward to being parted from my
soul-mate, even for a few hours. 

 "No, Benton. I already told you what the sleeping arrangements would be,
did I not?" 

 "Uh huh." 

 "All right, then. No arguments. We'll make you comfortable on the sofa." 

 I nodded in compliance. I knew Grandma's word was final. "Good night,
Julie," I said, placing a hand on top of the blankets that covered her. 

 "'Night, Ben. Today was fun. I'm glad you asked me to come." 

 "Me, too." I smiled shyly at her until my grandmother put her hand on my
head and tousled my hair to get my attention. 

 "Let's go, sweetie. It's way past your bedtime." 

 "Can I kiss her good night?" 

 "You may give her a quick kiss on the cheek, then I want you into bed
with no more stalling." 

 I crawled up onto the bed and kissed her, and as I was backing off the
bed Julie said "Wait, Ben. I hafta kiss you g'night, too." So, without
asking Grandma's permission, I smiled and crawled back to her and offered
my cheek. I hovered there beside her, on my hands and knees, holding my
hand to the spot she had kissed. "G'night Benny. I love you." 

 "That's what my mum called me," I said aloud without realizing it. I was
taken aback at first, but then a happiness overtook me such as I had not
felt...well, since before Mum's death. "I love you, too," I replied with a
shy grin. Then I felt Grandma grab hold of the seat of my pajama bottoms
and pull me off the bed. As my feet touched down on the floor, she
released her grip and applied a light pat to my bottom, then took my hand
and led me out of the room. 

 

 I couldn't sleep. Even though Grandma and Grandpa were in the room with
me, reading, I couldn't shake a feeling of loneliness. I'd become very
used to having Dad around during that past week, and now that he was gone,
the house seemed empty. I knew that if I could just be in the same room as
Julie, I'd find enough comfort to allow me to sleep. 

 I pretended to be asleep until, eventually, my grandparents went to bed.
After waiting a few minutes, I got off the couch and crept as quietly as I
could into my bedroom. Julie was sound asleep and looked like an angel. I
leaned in and kissed her softly on the lips, relishing the touch of her
warm breath on my face. I was so in need of human contact that I was
tempted to lie down next to her, but I feared severe retribution would
follow when Grandma discovered us the next morning. Instead, I spread my
bedroll on the floor beside the bed, lay down and closed my eyes, and
quickly fell to sleep. 

 Grandma was up at dawn as usual and I awoke briefly when she covered me
with the blanket she had retrieved from the couch. I opened my eyes as she
brushed my hair off my face with her fingers, and then she kissed my
forehead and told me to go back to sleep. I was surprised that Grandma
hadn't insisted on my returning to the sofa, but I resigned myself to
hearing of her displeasure with me later in the day. 

 I didn't, however. I received no reprimand at all. The only mention
Grandma made of the nighttime incident was to ask me if I found it easier
to sleep on the floor of my bedroom than on the sofa in the living room. I
responded, "Yes," and that was the end of it. That was where I slept for
the remainder of Julie's visit. 

 After Grandma put us to bed at night, we'd take turns telling stories in
the dark until we slept. One of my stories frightened Julie to the point
that I had no choice but to get in bed beside her and comfort her until
she fell asleep. Truth be told, the story had disturbed me a bit, too, and
I had been equally in need of company. I was careful not to drift off next
to her, however, and eventually I returned to my bedroll and slept
soundly. 

 

 THE END 

 maryspen@aol.com